


To be truly free (love unconditionally)

by ifonenight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, D/s, Dean in Panties, Dom Castiel, Fluff, Gentle Dom Castiel, Harry Potter debates, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Panty Kink, Praise Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Spanking, Sub Dean, Sub Dean Winchester, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7058677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifonenight/pseuds/ifonenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You don't have to worry, Dean," Cas murmurs, smiling. "Come just as you are to me, and you will find that I have never stopped loving you, and I never will. I care for all of <i>you</i>, Dean Winchester. Unconditionally."<br/>And Dean... He'll be damned, but Dean believes him.<br/>This journey they're starting together is going to systematically destroy all his misconceptions about himself, that he has realized by now. And it's scaring. </p><p>He's ready.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To be truly free (love unconditionally)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Spn Writing Challenge](http://spnwritingchallenge.tumblr.com), with the prompt [“Unconditionally”](http://tinyurl.com/jcxoxln) by Katy Perry. If you're not familiar with the song, I'd suggest you to read the lyrics first. You can totally read the story without knowing them, but it’ll have more sense if you do. Thank you to [paperbugs](http://archiveofourown.org/users/paperbugs) for beting this!
> 
> This story covers at least one year, give or take.

It’s a peaceful day, warm and bright, with a nice scent in the air. Spring is blooming all around them and Dean kind of likes how colorful the view is. He keeps the window rolled down, occasionally sticking a hand out to feel the cool breeze on his fingers.

The open road stretches out in front of the Impala, long and empty, for the most part, but nature is thriving all around them and it’s a nice spectacle.

Sam is sleeping soundly next to him. They wrapped up a hunt the night before and then slept only a couple of hours before taking off - the town’s sheriff was a little too suspicious of their badges to be comfortable.  
Dean’s not that tired, and besides, what could beat driving his baby to wake up? But Sam needs his beauty sleep, so Dean lets him rest and keeps the radio on a low volume. He can barely hear the music himself.

He glances at the rear-view mirror and sees that Cas, in the backseat, is still typing away on his phone with an air of intense concentration. He really loves that device, and while Dean can see the appeal of some of the games and apps Cas uses, he doesn’t really get why Cas is so attached to it. Must be all that _human inventiveness_ he’s so fond of.

There’s a very catching song coming from the radio; Dean can’t really hear the words, but it sounds like something from Katy Perry. No one is paying attention to it but him, so he leaves it, barely stopping himself from humming along.

It’s not that he thinks Cas would make fun of him if he knew Dean likes this kind of music - and Cas has a shitty taste for rappers anyway - or that Sam would really think less of him; it’s more that he’s embarrassed by liking something that would definitely not be considered _tough_. There’s nothing weak or pitiful in liking pop, that he rationally knows. It’s just that he’s a protector, and a warrior, and shields and weapons can’t just be strong, they also have to look the part.

He’s so absorbed in thinking how he can’t let himself enjoy this stuff, that he doesn’t notice he’s actually bobbing his head and tapping the wheel until Cas says: “I agree that this song is quite enjoyable.”

Dean almost jerks the car out of the road. He quickly turns off the radio and takes a deep breath, trying to calm his frantic heartbeats. Cas has still a way to startle the shit out of him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s pretty lame,” he answers, keeping his eyes on the road and resolutely off the rear-view mirror.

Silence greets his words, and when he can’t take it anymore and dares a quick look at the mirror, Cas is staring pointedly at him, one eyebrow way higher than the other.

Dean tears his eyes off Cas’ reflection and doesn’t turn the radio on until Sam wakes up and comments how weird the absence of rock music feels.  

 

 

“Look, not every Slytherin is a bad person, I’ll be the first to admit that, but you can’t deny that the majority of bad people in the books were from Slytherin.”

“Dude, I’m not saying Slytherins are innocent flowers, I’m just saying that Jeoffrey is too fucking cruel to even be in Hogwarts. Put him in Durmstrang or something.”

“What about Voldemort, then?!”

“Yeah okay, but he wasn’t the rule. Like, Hogwarts has one house, out of _four_ , known for kids with a creepy tendency to black magic. Durmstrang is a whole damn school. And Voldemort did what he did for twisted reasons, but they were _moral_ reasons, even though his moral was completely fucked up. Jeoffrey just… does it because he can, and because he thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

“Which is exactly what Voldemort believed.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t do things because he could, he did things because he believed in them. That’s pretty different.”

“Are you saying Voldemort is better than Jeoffrey?! He was trying to do a genocide based on genetic, he’s basically Hitler with magic powers!”

“I’m not saying he’s better, bitch, I’m saying they’re different and that I can see one fitting in Hogwarts but not the other”.

“Because Voldemort is not as cruel as Jeoffrey?!”

“Being horrible people,” Cas interjects from where he’s savoring his chocolate strawberries, his slumped posture in contrast with the brothers’ excited ones, “doesn’t equal being unreasonably cruel - ‘unreasonably’ intended here as ‘without reason’, whatever and however unethical this reason may be. If I’m not mistaken, Dean is saying that Voldemort had a reason to be cruel, while Jeoffrey didn’t.”

“But isn’t ‘just because I want it so’ a reason in itself?,” considers Sam, leaning over the table. Their plates have long gone empty, and Led Zeppelin have given way to Taylor Swift in the background.

Cas shrugs. “I suppose.”

“Yeah but” Dean starts, then stops. He sighs, and stands up. “Whatever, this conversation is turning too nerdy for me. You dorks enjoy your talk.”

“Dude, you can’t leave now, we’re in the middle of a discussion,” Sam protests, while Cas says “What you said so far was really clever, Dean. We would enjoy your impromptus.”

Dean scowls and shakes his head. “Kitchen needs to be cleaned up. Don’t stay up too late, kids.” He grabs the plates and then he’s gone.

Sam and Cas are left to look at each other and roll their eyes so hard they could jump out of their sockets and high-five.

 

 

“Cas,” Dean calls, and his voice is low and closed-off. Whatever is troubling Dean, it doesn’t bode well.

Cas takes a moment to ready himself and turns. Dean’s arms are full of dried laundry, the same laundry Castiel has washed just a couple of hours before.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean licks his lips and looks down at what he’s clutching to his chest, and Cas follows his gaze. He mostly sees a set of unassuming socks and underwear, but there is a black, shining cloth that looks too soft and pretty to really fit in.

“Oh,” Cas says gently. He steps closer, and Dean raises his head, his internal fight clear on his face: if to open up, and lay himself bare, or if to shut down and storm out.

Some times has passed from the days when Dean was afraid even to show his deep enjoyment for mundane stuff like music or books or TV-shows, but they still have a long way to go to let him finally be comfortable with every part of himself.  

But they’re working on it, together, and with Sam, and step after step, Dean is a little more relaxed, a little more confident in his pleasures.

Still, this is a _big_ step. Castiel understands that for most humans this isn’t common or accepted, that it’s instead shameful - though he doesn’t really grasp why. But this isn’t about him, this is about Dean. That’s why he hasn’t said anything when he found them before. They’ll go at Dean’s pace.

He has to be careful now, or Dean will run away.

“Dean” he starts, and Dean just stays there, watching Castiel’s every move. “The fact that you own this piece of clothing doesn’t mean anything in particular to me.” He place his right hand on one of Dean’s, which results in an awkward position because Dean is holding the laundry, but Castiel doesn’t mind. “But I know it means something to _you_. So we can talk about it, if you want, or we can just put them away and keep them hidden until you’re ready to bring them out again, if you’ll ever want to. It’s your choice.”

He closes the space between them and circles Dean’s back with his arms. He can’t get closer because the laundry is between them, but it’s enough.

“I think you would look beautiful in them, as you always do,” he amends, smiling at Dean. “But that is the only opinion I have on this.”

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. They stay like this for a while, just breathing until they sync, and despite the tension in Dean’s shoulders, it’s oddly relaxing.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, not yet,” Dean says eventually, and Castiel nods, ready to drop it, but then Dean adds, “I’d like to show you, though. How they… look on me,” and Castiel’s heart flutters.

 

 

Dean’s skin is already turning dark pink under the black panties, a lovely shade of bruised. Dean is panting and trying to stay still, trying to avoid grinding his hips on the comforter, but Castiel knows it must be difficult, at this point.  

Dean hasn’t come in almost a week. They agreed on this… _exercise_ , together, and they knew it would have been hard and challenging and maybe even frustrating - not only physically, which was a given in Dean’s case, but also emotionally - but they felt it was a good time to try. Dean is much more honest with himself about his needs and wants, by now, and while there are many feelings and desires that are still hard to process and accept, he’s at least more willing to acknowledge them.     

“What are you, Dean?” Castiel growls in his ear, hand gripping his hair tightly.

Dean grits his teeth, pants, grunts, and says, “Bad. I’m bad, Sir.”

Castiel releases his hair and resumes the spanking, hitting hard but slow, letting Dean feel every impact without distractions.

“You’re amazing, Dean.” he says, while Dean moans and sighs and yells. “You’re smart, and kind, and brave, and so, so loving.” He goes faster now, spanks his upper thighs, the lower part of his ass, the centre, where he’s most sensitive, and Dean writhes and gasps.

Cas pauses and pushes down the panties, dragging their soft, sensual, texture on the burning skin, and grins when Dean has to take gulp of air. He slides them off Dean’s leg and let them fall on the floor, careful of not damaging them. Dean is really fond of them.

He palms Dean’s asscheeks and spread them, and Dean ducks his head in the comforter, trying to hide.

“You’re not bad, Dean,” Cas says, and raises his hand just to bring it down on Dean’s back, again and again. “You’re good, and you’re loved.”

He leans down to whisper in Dean’s ear, “Say it, and I’ll let you come.”

Dean squints his eyes shut at that, and his breath is becoming erratic, every muscle tense, so Cas stops, ready to end the scene there, as he usually has to do once they reach this point, but then Dean unclenches his fists and relaxes his body and regains control of his breath.

That has never happened before.

Cas kisses his nape, then his eyelids, then his nose, the corner of his mouth, his shoulder, his arms, his lower back, and peppers his ass of little pecks.

“What are you, Dean?” he murmurs, squeezing once one of Dean’s hand in his and smiling down at him when Dean looks up, eyes a little glossy.

Dean sighs deeply, and says, “I’m good.”

 

 

It’s actually Dean that says it first. It suddenly came to his mind that Cas is usually the one that reassures him and lets him knows he’s okay the way he is, and that he himself has a shitty way of showing that the same counts for Cas as well.

So he straightens his back and kind of marches in front of his _partner_ and when Cas turns to look at him, surprised, he says, “I love you. You’re perfect. For me, but also in general,” and it’s not the most romantic declaration of love in the history of romantic declarations of love, but Castiel actually cries, that’s how _touched_ he is, so Dean counts it as a job well done.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is divided in five short sections - they were going to be more, originally, but... well, time (that I didn't have).  
> Every section but the last one deals with a different aspect of Dean's personality that Dean doesn't let himself enjoy at its fullest, or that he doesn't accept completely: 1. pop music, 2. nerd stuff, 3. panties, 4. being a good person. All of them are more or less canonical.  
> As you maybe have noticed, every part has a brief reference to the focus of the previous section, showing how Dean has come to welcome it as a (cool) part of himself. That's why I said that the fic covers at least one year; self-acceptance, especially for someone who has the same baggage as Dean, takes time.  
> The last part, instead, concisely shows that Cas, too, is loved for who he is, that's he's more than enough, for Dean and their little family in general. 
> 
> Aaaaand that's it, folks. I know we're all kinky darlings, so what about a comment or a kudos to satisfy my praise!kink? Just sayin'. I accept criticisms as well. 
> 
> P.S. The laundry wasn't a reference to the verse of the song, I swear it wasn't on purpose. 
> 
> [Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://buckybee.tumblr.com/)]


End file.
